


We Have the Bright Sun

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Picnics, jedifest 2016, poe should have an alternate career as a speechwriter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: After waking in the Resistance medbay, all Finn wants is to leave before the First Order punishes his friends more severely because he's there with them. Poe has different ideas.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OrmondSacker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/gifts).



> For the prompt: FinnPoe, picnic. I may have gone a little over the top here.

Finn lays out his clothes on the low cot. There really aren’t a lot of them, barely enough to cover half the blue spread of the blanket. He sets the jacket to one side. It would be… wrong… to take that. The blaster gets set to one side as well, somehow still with him, even after the catastrophe in the snow on Starkiller, even after his long stay in the medbay. 

He has the bag, left over from the bombs that destroyed Starkiller, the bombs that broke apart that dark place, the bombs that made the tomb of so many people he knew. He starts to pile in the few shirts he’s found, the extra pair of pants. 

“Whatcha doing, Finn?” He whirls around. There, right inside his doorway, Poe slouches against the wall. He feels his face color, blood rushing to his face as he ducks his head just a little bit. 

“I’m leaving. I have to go.”

“To chase after Rey?” Finn shakes his head. No. No. 

“This isn’t my fight, Poe.” He sinks down to sit on the edge of the cot. “It’s never been my fight. I went to Starkiller to rescue Rey. People I knew died there. The First Order _knows_ I helped kill them. I can’t stay here. We might have won this round, but the First Order will find us. And they’re angry with me, more angry with me than they are with any of the rest of you.” He takes a deep breath.

“I can’t stay here and know they’ll punish you all even more harshly because they’ll find me with you.” Poe takes a step forward, then stops, a sharp, abortive pause in the center of the room. 

“What makes you think they’ll win?” Finn almost laughs. The Resistance still doesn't understand. Poe still doesn’t understand. Even after Starkiller, they don’t see what the First Order really is. 

“Poe, you don’t know them. They won’t stop until they’ve won, or destroyed the galaxy in the process. They have a cause, and they’re willing to fight for it, die for it. Every stormtrooper, it’s more important to them than life itself. The officers too. From the lowest lieutenant to Hux himself. What have you got? What cause are you fighting for? Nothing, just a ragtag band of people who want to make their own choices.”

“What makes you think that isn’t a cause?” This time Finn really does laugh. What does it matter what choices you make, when they all lead to you having to rescue your friends, when they all lead to danger and horror and death?

“Where are your speeches, Poe? Where are the assemblies, the thousands of voices screaming together?” Poe sighs, comes to perch next to Finn on the bed. He places a hand on Finn’s knee, and for a moment, the warmth seeps into Finn’s bones, chases away the chill and the terror that seem to have lodged themselves deep inside him.

But it’s only an instant. 

“I’ll show you.” Poe nods, soft hair falling into his face. “I’ll show it to you, show you everything. Just a give me a few days, Finn. I’ll prove it to you.” 

Finn sighs, body heavy, sinking into the bed. 

“Just a few days.” That can’t hurt. A few days won’t matter. He’ll still be able to get far enough away that the First Order won’t punish the Resistance for Finn’s own actions. He’ll still be able to protect his friends. 

***

The rap at the door is loud and insistent. When Finn taps it open - no remote voice access here - Poe’s standing on the other side, a basket over one arm, a wide grin on his face. 

“Come on, we’re going to have a picnic.”

“A what?” Poe blinks at him for a moment, eyes crinkled at the corners in what might be surprise, or care, or something that Finn doesn’t want to think about too hard. 

“A picnic. We’ll go outside, and lay out a blanket, and eat a meal.” Finn shrugs. 

“Why would we want to do that?” He asks, but he steps outside the room to follow Poe down the long corridor leading to the base exit. 

“You wanted me to show you our cause. I’m doing it.” Finn nods. He may not understand, but he’ll follow Poe for this. 

Once they’re outside, the sun warm on their faces. Poe starts off down a path that leads into the small wooded copse near the base. Once they’re under the trees, it becomes cooler, the light greening and filtering through broad leaves. Once they’re in the damp stillness, Finn can breathe.

He follows Poe down the narrow path, feet padding on the thick carpet of fallen leaves, hearing the soft squelch of mud and rotting vegetation under his feet. He fancies that he can almost feel the dampness seeping through the soles of his boots, welling up to root him in the planet, grab and hold him here. Finn shakes his head. Strange fantasies. He fixes his eyes on Poe’s back. 

Finally, after walking for about fifteen minutes, they begin to make their way uphill. As they climb, the trees start to thin out, the ground get drier. Finally, they step onto a wide, flat rock. There are little bits of moss growing out of the crevices, plants struggling to force their way upward into the light. Poe sets down the basket in the center of the rock, where there’s a very gentle slope downward. 

“Come help me with this, ok?” Finn nods, wanders over to where Poe has opened up the basket. On top there’s a bright blanket, striped with rust brown and red. Finn can feel a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The blanket matches Poe’s jacket. Matches his jacket. 

They spread it out on the rock, blocking away the chill that seems to have lingered on the hard surface despite the sun. Next are a few metal trays from the mess hall, sparkling where the light bounces and jumps off of their mirror bright surfaces. For a moment, Finn thinks of how they’d be perfect to signal with, to bounce lights to the sky in hopes of a rescue. But then he pushes the thought away. That’s all behind him now. He’s leaving, doesn’t need to worry about being downed during some mission ever again. 

“You sit down now,” Poe pats the blanket, then kneels next to the basket and starts pulling small containers out as Finn settles himself down. A few are large and clear, and in them Finn can see some sort of dark stew. When Poe pulls off the covers, he takes an involuntary deep breath. It’s spicy sweet, the scent rising from the uncovered dishes, warm and comforting. 

“We’ll start with this,” Poe tells him. He hands Finn one of the containers, and it’s warm to the touch. A spoon is next, and Poe digs in, even before Finn can juggle his utensils well enough to start. When he does, though, the stew is warm on his tongue, thick and comforting. He can feel it slide down the back of his throat to pool, dark and real, in his stomach. 

“Do you like it?”

Finn nods. Yes. It’s lovely, though he’s still not sure what it has to do with the Resistance. He takes another bite and chews. A vegetable, something he doesn’t know about, but it’s lovely and rich, vegetal. It’s almost as though he’d thought he’d known what taste was but now, out in the wind and the brightness, the smell of the spices blending with the green wetness brought to him on the light breeze, taste is a new thing. As though there’s an entire world here that he’d never known existed. He feels the spoon scrape the bottom of the container and for a moment mourns the end of the stew. But then Poe is tugging the empty dish out of his hands. He looks up at Finn from under hooded eyes. 

“Good?”

“Yes,” Finn replies. More than good, but he’s not quite sure how to say that, what that means. 

“Want to try something else?” Poe has already pulled out a larger container from the basket. This one is made of some opaque material, but when he opens it Finn catches the flashes of bright green inside. Poe pulls out a larger spoon and fork, and places a pile of the stuff onto their trays. 

“My mother used to make this salad. It’s not something you usually find around here - I had to look pretty hard to find the right stuff for it.” And there’s a pool of warmth in Finn’s stomach again, only this time it’s not from the stew. Poe cracks open a tiny jar and drizzles an oil over their salads. This time he waits for Finn to pick up the tray, to fork up a bite. 

It crunches in his mouth, and there’s a wave of something peppery against his tongue, sharp and overwhelming. But at the same time, there’s the silky feel of the oil and a sweetness from a piece of fruit. Finn feels his eyes slip shut involuntarily as he tastes. It’s astounding, the contrast with the stew. From that solid richness to this. And he’s seen so many things, been taught about so much, but never this. He’s reminded of the moment they touched down on Takodana, Rey’s astonishment at the sheer greenness of the place. But this time, it’s him, and it’s something that should be far less incredible. It’s not as though he hasn’t eaten before, after all

Yet he wonders: has he?

He opens his eyes to see Poe, gaze fixed on his face. 

“Is it ok?” There’s none of the usual cockiness in Poe’s question. He leans a little in towards Finn, as though something essential rests on the answer. 

“More than ok.” And it really is. It’s new, and astonishing, and Finn can’t believe that Poe has been eating something like this all his life. Wouldn’t it be overwhelming? It can’t be allowed, this pleasure in something that should be about sustenance. It can’t be. 

Poe digs into his own salad, smiles bright at the first crunch. Finn watches as he chews, swallows, his throat bobbing and his back hunching as if to get a little closer to the tray. It’s oddly enthralling, watching Poe’s delight over the salad after knowing exactly how wonderful it really is. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” Finn starts. He shakes his head, shrugs. _Because it’s almost better to watch you_ , he wants to say. But that… that’s absurd. Instead he takes another bite, feels the peppery brightness explode against his tongue again. 

They finish their salads in silence. 

Then Poe pulls out two small narrow containers, almost like cups. He sets them down on the blanket between them and looks up at Finn again, mouth pursed. 

“Will you do something for me, Finn?” Finn nods. For Poe, anything.

“Close your eyes.” Before Poe can even quite finish the sentence, Finn feels his eyelids slipping shut. There’s the snap of a lid opening, a scrape of metal against the inside of a container. 

“Open up, you.” He lets his lips fall open, and there’s a press of a spoon against them. Something slips inside his mouth. And it’s sweet, some sort of fruit, summer’s beauty flaring inside him. There’s thickness too, almost like blue milk but so much richer that Finn wonders what has been done to it. But he can hardly wonder at that for long, because the taste keeps going on and on, the suns of a thousand worlds and the heat of their light filling him up in the sharp sweetness. He feels his eyes pricking with tears at the beauty of it. 

“D’you like it?” Poe’s voice is hushed, so close and yet almost a whisper in the wind. 

“What… what is that?” Finn gasps out, eyes still shut tight. 

“It’s called a parfait. It means ‘perfect’” Finn nods. It is perfect. “Do you want more of it?” 

“Please.” He can’t help the small desperate tinge to his voice, the hope. The spoon presses back to his lips and he takes another bite. This time there’s some sort of pastry too, or maybe a biscuit of some sort. It’s another dimension, and Finn takes a long moment to savor the different textures, the soft silky creaminess matched with the bite of the fruit and the springiness of the biscuit. Then he opens his eyes. 

Poe is right next to him now, face so close that Finn can see the curve of his eyelashes, the wind-burnt flush of his cheeks and the sun-darkened redness at the bridge of his nose. His lips are curved into a smile, and it’s so carefree that Finn’s stomach clenches tight. 

“Can I?” Poe breathes, and Finn can feel the words puff out across his lips. 

“Yes... Yes,” he replies, but the second word is swallowed up in the press of Poe’s lips to his. And Finn didn’t think anything would be sweeter than the dessert, but this, Poe’s mouth pressed to his, this is more incredible by far. 

It’s a light kiss, just a brush of lips, but as Finn leans into it, Poe takes one of Finn’s lips between his own, sucks on it. Finn gasps. He’s never felt like this before. He’s kissed someone before, of course he has, that and more. But this, this slow heat that creeps into his bone and sits there, warming him more than the light of the sun, this is new. He lets his teeth dig slightly into Poe’s lips, gives back as much as he can. 

It feels like only instants before Poe pulls away, but when he does, Finn notices how his shoulders have started to ache from the awkward way he’s leaning into Poe. 

“Was that ok?”

“More than ok. But Poe, why? I… I mean, it was incredible. But why me? Why all of this?” Poe settles himself back on the blanket, draws a deep breath. He looks around for a moment, as though taking in the forest, gathering himself for a plunge. 

“Because we can. Because we’re allowed to. Because these, Finn, these are our speeches and our parades.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You asked me to show you what we’re fighting for, why we’ll win. This is why. Because we don’t have rallies and meetings. We have this. We have the bright sun and the warmth of the day. We have the wind and the silence and the cold rock beneath us. We have the freedom to eat what we want, live how we want, love who we want.” He reaches out, smooths a thumb across Finn’s cheekbone. 

“We have the world, the galaxy, the universe. It’s a galaxy full of danger and horror, and pain, but it’s ours. We can live or die on our own. We have the freedom to make our own choices. We have the heat of a summer fruit and the cold of cream. We have the thrill of the chase and the chance to win or fall on our own. We have names and families and each tiny individual destiny that matters just as much as every other fate. This is what we have. Freedom.”

“But how can that win against something so horrible, something so huge?” Finn wants to believe, wants to understand. And he thinks, with the tingling corners of his mind, that he might just be beginning to.

“We might not. But we have the choice to live or die for our cause. We have the chance to stay with the Resistance because we care, because we, ourselves, want to give back freedom to the rest of the world. And that’s what matters.” Poe swallows, throat working again, but this time heavy and solid. 

“You have that choice too. You’ve always had it, everyone does. But sometimes people don’t know they’re allowed to choose. And that’s what we’re fighting for. For everyone to know that they can have this,” Poe waves his arms wide, embracing the whole hilltop in his gesture, “all of this, or not. But that they can chose for themselves.”

Finn looks around at the treetops, at the small, creeping moss working its way slowly through the hilltop, destroying the solid, almost monumental rock. He understands now. Nods.

“Then I will fight with you. Fight for the sun and the stars above us, and the chance to have this.” And he kisses Poe again, the taste of freedom sharp between their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to [artyaouter](http://artyaouter.tumblr.com/) and [percjgraves](http://percjgraves.tumblr.com/) for their help. Y'all are my rocks. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
